Shock and Awe

I am not talking about another US offensive. Most of my more memorable moments have involved complete and utter baffling scenarios. Here are some of the more noteworthy instances.

Last week, I visited the home of my roommate, Reuben. His family lives way out in the sticks, makes Kapsabet look like NYC. We stepped off the matatu into a desolate looking area, in the Rift Valley region. He said that we would have to take a bike taxi to the house. We spotted one boda-boda, but had to track down the owner of the bike. This is not India, so I don't plan on riding triples on this bike, for an unknown distance. I don't think the rider really was eager for that option either.

After some haggling, we secured another bike, and began to walk them down a path. We walked for near 10min. I almost said, " Hey I am not paying for you to escort me, while walking your bike next to me." Finally I hopped on the back of the bike, and Reuben actually rode someone else's acquired bike, behind us. I'm glad I kept my mouth shut, because the ride took about 25 min through arid farms, over rough rutted dirt roads. Once we finally arrived, Reuben arranged to keep the one bike, and the bike taxi guy left back to the highway. I kinda felt stranded, as the guy had clearly refused to come back, all the way out here in two hours.

The family shamba, farm, was a model of efficiency and obvious diligence. Reuben's father, is an absolute character. If I were to describe him, it would be a more youthful Kenyan version of Mr. Furley (Don Knotts to everyone in my generation and younger), from Three's Company. We ate a great meal of chicken and mashed potatoes. Then we took a tour of the farm, and he showed me all the various crops he was growing. Reuben showed me the mud-walled home, that he built himself.

The memorable part came when it was time to leave. I had recovered from my morning run sufficiently and felt adventurous. I told Reuben that he could ride on the back of the borrowed bike, while I pedaled us back to the road. This bike was not fully equipped for riders, but it did have a metal cage on the back for goods. Reuben agreed, and I mounted the bike. Bikes in Kenya do not come in sizes, and the only size would equate to a maybe 61cm frame size (I ride a 58cm bike which is big). The bike also weighed at least 50lbs, due to the various steel mountings all over the bike.

I straddled the bike and took a few pedal strokes and Reuben took a running start and hopped on the back of the bike. Immediately I began to swerve under his weight, he is about my size. We took a few big correction swings, where I swore we were going to bite it, but I got it under control. Now back home I ride a single speed bike around town and to work. Once I got the bike under my control, I wanted to test my boda-boda skills. Within 400yds., I was tearing down the road at a breakneck pace(pun intended). The wind muffled most of Reuben's screams, not sure if it was terror or laughter. Often I barely had time to make last minute corrections, for turns. The bike handled like a runaway Buick, without power steering. So many times, I came extremely close to dumping the entire bike and included riders. As we raced through the country side, I yelled at sheep, cows, children to clear a path for the out of control transport. The only reaction we received from farmers, working their fields, was dropped jaws and unbelieving stares. I am pretty sure a white guy, carrying a Kenyan guy, while riding a bike at ludicrous speeds, is not an everyday occurrence in those parts. We made it back to the starting point in roughly 7 minutes! Yeah we had a bit of downhill to our advantage, but Reuben assured me that was the fastest he had ever seen one those bike move. We actually didn't have a planned dismount, just an emergency bail next to a barbed wire fence, just before crashing down some rocks.

The second encounter, was filled with shock on my side. About six weeks ago, before my family sent me a whole collection of books, I checked out the local library. It is situated on the road, between my house and town. I decided to stop by one day, to check out what they had to offer. This is not an ordinary American style library.

The compound has a menacing fence surrounding it, and A GUARD CARRYING AN AUTOMATIC RIFLE! I meekly approached the guy, and said I just wanted to check the place out. He told me that I had to check my backpack with him. I squinted and tried to figure if this was legit. I told him, "I'm just going in for a few minutes and will be back out." He replied, still holding the rifle, "These are the regulations and you must leave your bag with me." Rifle trumps all persistence.

The library is separated into two buildings, children and adult books (yes I understand how that sounds). I find the head librarian at the main counter. He asks me why I am here. I tell him that I am just staying around here for a few months and might want to come here and read or even check out a book. He gave me a grave look, and started to look me over. Do I look like an international paperback book thief? Because this guy sure gave the impression that I would fit the bill of such a criminal.

He walked behind the desk and pulled out a form, that I would have to fill out. He told me that I would have to get a local to vouch for me, in case I skipped town on some fees. On top of that I had to get that person's national security ID number and even then this person would be checked out and had to be in good standing within the community. I said to him, "Do I really need to do all this, even if I just want to read here?" He didn't flinch and said, "Yes. Yes you do no exceptions." I took the form and tried to give the impression that 'yeah of course everyone has to pass the Homeland Security background check in US before they can read the next Stephen King book.'

Thankfully, I received a shipment of about ten books, from the family in California, which have held me over this entire time. This trip has been a great eye-opener, in so many ways. I return home in ten days and will post many pictures, once I get to a stable internet connection. Thanks to everyone who has posted comments, I really appreciate it and it helps with homesickness.

Training:

I am just hitting my last big week of training this week, before I come back down into a taper. I will be running a half marathon about a week after I arrive home. The rain has slowly backed off, which has allowed the roads to become more conducive to training.

I have been counting down the amount of hard workouts, that I have left in Kenya. I only have one of each variety left, but a little sad because I have finally began to hold my own. I can't wait to see what the effects of the altitude and dedicated training, will have once I return to sea level in Charleston.

Hope all is well in the states.